


Fatal attraction

by Pansexualweirdo



Category: Emperor's New Groove (2000)
Genre: Aka Kuzco Is Not A Llama Cause I Ain't Into That, Because I'm A Dick To Happy Couples, Disney, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27728398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pansexualweirdo/pseuds/Pansexualweirdo
Summary: Kuzco calls Pacha into his throne room for a favor, and the favor in question may change their friendship forever.
Relationships: Kuzco & Pacha, Kuzco/Pacha
Comments: 15
Kudos: 32





	Fatal attraction

**Author's Note:**

> After watching The Road To El Dorado for the first time this year, I found this movie and dug my claws into the most absurd ship I could think of. The lack of works in this is understandable since Kuzco is a llama and also a huge asshole for about 85 % of the movie. However, he is NOT a llama in this, which is why I think you should give it a read. Have fun!

“You wanted to see me, your excellency?” called Pacha, stepping inside Kuzco’s ridiculously huge throne room (or, to the emperor, his _bedroom_ ), his voice bouncing off the walls. Kuzco was planted squarely on his throne, his feet perched atop one of the armrests, crossed at the ankles, and the train of his scarlet toga pooling over the other where he leaned his back - he was filing his nails. Even though the man had changed his ways, Pacha supposed old habits died hard.

At least he wasn’t having anyone file his nails _for_ him.

Kuzco jumped up from his seat upon hearing his friend’s greeting, pocketing his nail file and meeting Pacha halfway to give him a welcoming hug. He reprimanded him when they embraced: “Please, drop the title. Reminds me of before, when I was a selfish, spoiled brat,” and he all but shivered in recollection. He was so thin compared to Pacha, yet he fit perfectly in his arms. When Pacha pulled back, he shot the other a playful smile.

“You mean a month ago before you were turned into a llama?”

Kuzco gave him a light-hearted punch to the shoulder. “Hey, watch it!” he said, but he laughed all the same, inviting Pacha to sit next to him on his bed. That, too, was enormous, with the finest silken sheets and a glorious canopy surrounding it. Pacha enjoyed the simpler things in life, like having mattresses and pillows, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t a bit envious. If he slept in this every day, he’d probably feel more superior, as well.

“It’s good to see you, Pacha,” began Kuzco, and upon first glance, he might look like usual, but from the shuffling of his sandal-clad feet to his flickering gaze, the taller could detect a hint of nerves. He wondered where they came from.

“You too. You look troubled, though. Is there something bothering you?” he asked him, appearing to have hit the nail on its head; since his friend almost flinched, looking struck by the question. He held himself carefully, yet his reactions were so open. His hands wringed in his lap and his gaze dipped downward. He spoke slowly, hesitantly: “Well, yes _and_ no. Believe it or not, being an emperor isn’t always a walk in the park.”

Pacha never would have thought this to be the case, he didn’t envy the younger man’s position. However, when he opened his mouth to say this, Kuzco was quick to defend himself - perhaps _used_ to it.

“And I know, I’m in no place to complain. But you’ve no idea how many choices I have to make on the daily, how high everyone’s expectations of me are,” he went on, stress tightly strung in his voice as he curled his knees up to his chest and gripped them. Pacha didn’t know the emperor felt so much unease concerning his position, but he really shouldn’t be surprised. He tilted his body toward Kuzco to face him properly, searching for his eyes in hope of comforting him but finding them stubbornly fixed on the sheets. So he settled for placing a hand on one of the ruler’s tanned knees instead, effectively gaining his attention with the touch.

“No, I _don’t_ know what that is like. You’re allowed to complain, Kuzco; I’d imagine a title such as yours is a huge responsibility and weight on your shoulders. So what are the expectations of you this time?”

His query coaxed a hollow laugh out of Kuzco, who still seemingly couldn’t meet his eyes.

“... They want me to pick a wife.”

Stunned, Pacha dropped his hand from Kuzco’s leg, blinking a couple of times. He had heard of arranged marriage before, but...

“Sorry, **_pick_** a wife?” he raised, needing clarification on the bomb the other just dropped. Kuzco sighed, unfolding his legs from his chest and dejectedly dropping his hands into his lap. When he explained, he did so hurriedly, clearly not wanting to ponder the issue more than he had to: “There’s a queue of twenty different women, all said to be the most suitable successors for the title of ‘empress’. I’m expected to ‘test’ this by taking them all out on dates to see who will make the best heiress for the throne.”

Processing this new information, it was frankly a bit hard to swallow. Pacha couldn’t imagine how difficult Kuzco’s position must be. So, most unhelpfully, he settled for the response: “Goodness.”

But Kuzco didn’t look bothered by Pacha’s lack of consolation. He merely continued: “Don’t get me wrong, they’re all very beautiful, but the ceremony makes me uncomfortable. It’s like I’m perusing the market for a wife, and they’re just in it for the long run. They have to go along with it, whether they love me or not. It’s doesn't feel right,” and that shocked Pacha nearly enough to send him falling off the bed. He’d never seen Kuzco this worked up before, this sympathetic. He couldn’t help the words spilling out of his mouth next: “You really have changed, Kuzco.”

Finally, the emperor looked up at him, surprised, before clicking his tongue and averting his eyes away from him again, annoyed. He wears his emotions so blatantly on his sleeve, and it’s endearing yet troubling all at the same time.

“Yeah, well, meeting someone who genuinely cares about your well being without the obligations or titles can do that to you,” muttered Kuzco. Now, that was _not_ what Pacha had expected to hear.

A smile curled at his lips as he attempted to make light of the situation, wanting to help Kuzco shake off some of his worries.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Pacha!” snapped the ruler, and Pacha realized he can’t trust his humor to aid him here. This... problem of Kuzco’s was not going to go away, so perhaps talking about it was the only option: even though it would be hard and possibly awkward. But that was a small sacrifice Pacha was willing to make for his friend.

“Sorry, I know you’re in distress. I’m not sure what I would do if I were in your shoes,” he mumbled, painfully aware of his futility, but Kuzco made sure to highlight it for him, like the audacious young man that he is. He sneered, though not very bitingly: “That’s mighty helpful of you, thanks.”

“Hold on, I’m thinking.”

A silence fell over the room. Pacha wracked his brain for something, anything valuable; _anything_ sensible, but he fell short. Much like the thought he previously had, being an emperor didn’t solely mean sunshine and rainbows; with it came responsibilities and expectancy and _pressure_. Kuzco sharing this news alone proved that to him, more than ever before.

Then, breaking the silence, Kuzco mused with a sigh, inspecting his fingernails: “This would all be so much easier if I could just kiss all the mistresses and see who sparks the most magic, but…” and he trailed off.

Reluctance. Pacha could sense it. He impelled the monarch to resume: “But?”

Kuzco looked around them, possibly scanning for any intruders listening in, though Pacha found it hard to believe that anyone would dare do so. Then, Kuzco whipped back around to face the other, his turquoise earrings almost swatting him in the face in the process. He gripped Pacha’s wrist, and though it didn’t hurt, it made Pacha jump from the suddenness of it all. Kuzco’s slender fingers wrapped around his sleeve, almost emitting heat from them - Pacha’s eyes kept flickering from them and back up to Kuzco’s face. His expression was somber, grave, as he hissed: “You don’t speak to _anyone_ about this, okay?”

Like he even had to say that. Pacha may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he’s loyal to his friends and family: his lips were sealed.

“Of course not, Kuzco! What do you think of me? We’re friends, your words are safe with me.”

Kuzco held his eyes for one intense moment before exhaling, all in one breath: “I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Why was _this_ the most surprising thing Kuzco has said all day?

The way the man almost recoiled upon having said this, face flushing bright red and a hand coming up to rub at his neck - was admittedly adorable. Pacha, refocusing on what Kuzco said, sputtered: “You… Wait-- _never?”_ and watched Kuzco’s fluster grow. He defensively pointed at Pacha, looking furious.

“Don’t do that! You’re judging me!”

But Pacha didn’t want him to think he thought any less of the ruler for this, so he put his hands up in amiability, shaking his head.

“I’m not, I’m just surprised. I figured a man with your position and appearance would have plenty of lovers on your arm,” he explained, though his words visibly woke interest in Kuzco’s eyes, causing them to almost glow with amusement. He leaned into Pacha’s space, arching a brow at him as to urge him to go on.

“Are you calling me handsome?” he raised, almost a challenge, pitch lowered. This promptly sent Pacha coughing, reminding himself of their relationship and the nature of it. Though Kuzco certainly was attractive - and furthermore inquisitive, bold, yet kind -, they were friends, not _legally allowed_ to be anything else, anything _more_. So Pacha, despite the stirring in his stomach he felt when being so closely scrutinized by his attractive friend, detoured the conversation and glossed over his previous statement by saying: “Well, to girls, I’m sure you are!”

Kuzco almost deflated a little at that comment, disappointment stark in contrast to the hope he had (what _had_ he hoped to hear?). Pacha felt his heart sink, he didn’t know what else to say. But Kuzco beat him to it, back to bashful and extremely interested in his nails when he asked, quieter than he’s ever been: “Do you remember when you tried to kiss me, Pacha?”

 _This was getting dangerous…_ Pacha thought, his face warming at the question and what it could hold: at the _memory_.

To put it short and sweet, when Kuzco had been a llama, and unconscious, Pacha had meant to give him mouth-to-mouth resuscitation in an attempt to get his breathing going. But right as he lowered his face to the llama’s, Kuzco had woken up, and in his confusion interpreted Pacha’s trying to save him as an attempted kiss.

Pacha barked out a laugh, forced and unnatural, and he spoke, louder than he meant to.

“You are never going to let that go, are you? For the hundredth time, it was _not_ a kiss! You weren’t **_breathing_** , I was trying to save your life!”

Kuzco nodded at this, lucid, and he slumped back a little, the toga that clung to his lithe frame slipping off one shoulder and revealing golden skin beneath. Pacha swallowed, struggling to keep his eyes from that patch of skin.

“Yeah, yeah, well- whatever it was…” began the emperor, contemplative and almost… _shy?_

Far too curious for his own good, Pacha’s mouth prattled on without his volition: “Yes?”

“Do you think we could… try it again? Without me on the verge of death, that is,” Kuzco asked, threading his fingers through his jet black hair. This confirmed any worries Pacha had that the other might even _remotely_ return his affection for him, though part of him hoped it was just sudden intrigue. Because no matter how good this could be, it wasn’t reality. The two of them, together - it just wasn’t plausible.

The truth remained; Pacha was a horrible husband for even considering agreeing to Kuzco’s request, and if people found out about this, he could be _lynched_.

Still, if he couldn’t have Kuzco, he could at least help a friend out of a tricky situation by giving him some clarity. He would regret declining the monarch’s offer for the rest of his life, that he knew; but the guilt he could live with. His wife would never know and they could continue being a happy family, as well as Pacha and Kuzco’s friendship remaining intact.

Clearing his throat, his voice came out lower than he expected it to, almost foreign to him.

“Are you asking…?”

“Yes, I’m asking you to kiss me!” confirmed Kuzco, frustration transparent in his expressions and frantic hand movements as he explained his reasoning.

“Look, we’re _friends_ , right? We could do this and not have it be weird afterward. And you never make me feel embarrassed!” he rambled, face practically matching the shade of his robe by now - it was impossibly endearing.

“Please? Just one tiny peck would do, really. I just want to have some experience, _any at all,_ so I can choose a wife and get everyone off my back,” he finished, chest rising and falling dramatically as though his little speech exhausted him. Nonetheless, he hardly needed to plead, Pacha had already made up his mind. Kissing Kuzco was not just a favor to _him_ , it was a favor to _himself_ as well.

Though he acted more hesitant than he felt, more careful.

“Well, I suppose… since it’s for the greater good.”

“Thank you!” exclaimed Kuzco, giddy. He almost bounced on the mattress, looking up at Pacha with a grateful smile: one that had Pacha quelling a sigh of adoration. He shook his head, he needed to be straight with his friend, regardless of how much he liked him.

“But no one can know! They say men aren’t supposed to do this with each other, we could get in trouble,” he warned him, if reluctantly. He had never understood this decree, his heart certainly didn’t understand it, but it was important to be cautious of it, all the same.

Kuzco ducked his head in a shameful manner that had Pacha’s heart twisting relentlessly in his chest.

“I know. Of course we’ll keep it under wraps. I don’t want to get you into any trouble,” he said. And how selfless of him it was.

“Thank you.”

Pacha’s eyes fell to the other’s lips, his bottom one was held between his teeth in what was undeniably an involuntary display of nerves. It was enough for the bigger man to commit to his promise. He turned his body toward Kuzco’s all the way so they faced each other and scooted slightly forward until their knees were touching. He took off his hat, shaking the hair out of his eyes, and he didn’t fail to notice Kuzco watching him now.

“Are you… ready, then?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. What should I do?” asked Kuzco, eager to learn and open to Pacha’s every command - ironically enough, as he was an _emperor_. The amount of _trust_ he held for his friend had Pacha determined to make this kiss the best one of Kuzco’s life. He first took note of Kuzco’s tense posture, like he was bracing himself. He couldn’t have that. So he slowly brought a hand up to Kuzco’s face, ever-so-gently cupping his cheek in it. Kuzco nearly leaned into the touch, and a surge of desire shot through Pacha’s body. Quietly, he encouraged him to close his eyes. They fluttered shut at once, and Pacha could see now - with their close proximity -, how long the other’s eyelashes were.

“Try to relax, your shoulders are pinched to your ears.”

“Okay, okay,” nodded Kuzco, releasing a shuddering breath and letting his shoulders sink with it. However, he didn’t inhale after that, and Pacha raised a brow, fondly shaking his head at him when he realized what he was doing.

“You don’t need to hold your breath, Kuzco,” he said, and Kuzco made a ‘tch’ sound, most definitely rolling his eyes beneath his eyelids.

“Right. I knew that. What now?”

Pacha leaned forward inch by inch until they were a breath apart and he could feel Kuzco’s short breaths skimming his face. He lowered his voice even further, not wanting to startle his friend.

“Now I’ll kiss you,” but before he could even move his hands to cup Kuzco’s face, the man jerked back, eyes flying open as he panicked.

“Hold on, hold on, hold on!” he yelled, and Pacha’s heart sunk to the pit of his stomach. Had he changed his mind?

“What is it?” he gulped, trying to keep the fear out of his voice, but Kuzco’s next words placated him, if not making him even more infatuated with him.

“I just,.. What do I _do?_ Should I purse my lips, open my mouth, keep it closed? What are the rules here? I don’t want to screw it up!”

Hushing him with a finger against his lips and taking one of his hands in his to move it to the nape of his own neck, Pacha assured him: “You can’t screw it up unless you bite me. There are no rules for kissing. Just let me guide you, okay?”

Kuzco took a shaky breath, then nodded.

“Okay,” and he closed his eyes again. His fingers already curled around the curve of Pacha’s neck, familiarizing how his skin felt against his or perhaps holding on to prepare himself. His body leaning toward his and the enthusiasm he showed to learn convinced Pacha that he truly wanted this. So he used two fingers to gently tilt Kuzco’s jaw up and he softly pressed his lips against his, swallowing a gasp from him.

Kuzco almost immediately melted under Pacha’s touch, his fingers twisting in his hair and his body leaning into Pacha’s. His lips were unbelievably soft, at first still beneath Pacha’s, letting him lead, but eventually moving to mimic his. He was a fast learner, no doubt, pecking at Pacha’s lips just so and relaxing fully under his touch. The feeling of lips on lips and skin on skin was near electric, and Pacha so badly wanted to deepen their kiss, to lick into Kuzco’s mouth and completely take him apart; but alas, this was Kuzco’s _first kiss._ He should probably make sure the other liked it - or at the very least found it pedagogic.

So he pulled away, but only after one last peck, leaning their foreheads together and relishing in the shallow breaths Kuzco panted out.

“How was that?”

Kuzco’s hands slowly but surely released their tight grip in Pacha’s hair, and he looked hazily into the other’s eyes - his pupils blown.

“Oh, it was-...”

Then he apparently realized his own state, and he at once turned red, eyes averting away from Pacha’s.

“- Fine. It was fine,” he huffed, and Pacha chuckled at the obvious lie. He called him out on it, too: “You leaning into my touch says otherwise,” and Kuzco scoffed, but he didn’t take his hands off of him.

“That’s part of my seduction technique, obviously! And it appears to be working.”

“Uh-huh,” replied Pacha, smiling, because Kuzco was gorgeous and he got to have him in his arms, even if it wasn’t forever. Then, turning timid again, the emperor started tangling his fingers in Pacha’s hair, one hand that rested on the neck of his shirt slipping beneath the hem and causing heat to coil in the other’s belly.

“I know we said just one peck, but… just to be sure, maybe we should-”

“Yes. I think we should,” replied Pacha far too quickly, pulling the smaller man back into another kiss and this time snaking his arms around his thin waist, humming in approval when Kuzco eagerly climbed into his lap, knees settling between Pacha’s legs.

The man was already skilled in kissing, willing for more, but he had yet to experience the whole thing, and Pacha was elated to show it to him. When Kuzco leaned more and more into him until their chests were pressed together and Pacha was practically pushed onto his back, he thought that his excitement might just be matched.

Sitting back up and steadying himself, Pacha let his tongue swipe at the seam of full, pink lips, and the reaction was instantaneous. Kuzco’s mouth willingly fell open and the sweetest, most gratifying whimper left him. His hands - which had curiously traced around Pacha’s neck and back - curled into white-knuckled fists in his shirt and Pacha greedily licked into the moist heat of Kuzco’s mouth, drawing whimpers and little sighs from him.

Eventually, though, they both had to breathe, and they reluctantly parted to come up for air, panting as they once more leaned their foreheads together. Kuzco looked a beautiful, hot mess, lips kiss-bitten and cherry red, his eyes glazed over with want, and one of his earrings gone - when did that disappear?

“Hmm… You’re uh- you’re pretty good at this,” said Kuzco, far too modest - yet still breathing fast.

“You’re not so bad yourself, your majesty,~” teased Pacha back, feeling far too proud of himself for making his friend blush so furiously yet again.

“Stop that.”

“Oh, you love it.”

“I do not! I could never-”

But they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Scared half to death, both parties untangled themselves from one another and assumed relatively relaxed, unsuspicious poses - though it wasn’t easy. Thankfully, no one entered, but a voice spoke up from the other side of the door, and that voice sobered Pacha up, a wake-up call to what the fuck he was doing.

“Excuse me, emperor Kuzco? I’m sorry to bother you, but my husband left to see you and he’s been gone an awfully long time. Is he by any chance with you in there?”

Pacha’s blood ran cold. Never before had he experienced such a radical, dramatic change in his own emotions; from love, lust, and pure bliss, to black, harsh, and relentless _guilt_.

“That would be…” began Pacha, not daring to even say it aloud. But the horror had dawned on Kuzco, too, who filled in the gap: “- your wife.”

“Yes.”

“Oh God, you have a _wife_ ,” proceeded the other, in a whisper yet still too loud in the quiet room. It was as though he had forgotten - though Pacha couldn’t hold it against him. He agreed to this, after all, they were both to blame. He hushed Kuzco, panic and shame bubbling up within him and almost making him nauseous.

“We just-”

“Shut up!” he hissed, anger flaring up inside of him, but it dissipated as soon as Kuzco’s soft, regretful eyes made contact with his.

“You have to go to her,” he said, and Pacha could not for the love of the Gods above explain why he disagreed with a: “But-...”

Another more urgent knock at the door helped him wise up. He reluctantly nodded.

“Yes, you’re quite right.”

He stood up from the bed, straightened his shirt, and grabbed his hat, handing Kuzco his discarded earring as well. The helpless look on Kuzco’s features made it very difficult for him to walk away.

“I hope this helped you. Don’t be alarmed, Kuzco, we’re still friends. Nothing can change that,” he ensured him, needing it to be clear.

Kuzco shook his head, forging a halfhearted smile.

“No. No, of course not. Thank you, for-”

“My pleasure,” answered Pacha, too quick.

“I mean, no worries. We’ll talk soon, yeah? I have to go.”

And so, turning away from his closest friend and walking toward the bedroom door to meet his _wife_ would forever be the hardest thing he’d ever have to do. He heard the mumbled response before he exited the room, winced at the lack of life in it.

“... Yeah.”


End file.
